CHOORALMALA: Exactly a year after the Chooralmala–Mundakkai landslides buried homes, hopes, and entire families under the debris of despair, the survivors are taking their first steps towards a new beginning.
On the first anniversary of the disaster, a few of them visited the model house built as part of the government’s ambitious rehabilitation project, offering, for the first time in months, a glimpse of something they had forgotten — safety.
“I’m so happy. Having a roof over our heads again feels like the biggest security,” said Suhara Yusuf, a native of Chooralmala School Road, her voice quivering as she stood at the threshold of what will soon become her new home.
Suhara and her husband were the only ones to survive from their household. “We had nowhere to go. We’re too old to work, and now we live on the daily allowance from the government.
We never thought we’d get a home again,” she said, pausing. “We’re happy… but we wish our loved ones were here to live with us.”Suhara’s story echoes the grief and gratitude felt by hundreds.
As part of the township project, the state is building 459 houses for the displaced families. The first cluster of 120 houses is rising on the slopes of Elston Estate in Kalpetta. Each two-bedroom house is spread across seven cents, offering 1,000 square feet of space—modest but dignified.
The model house was completed in just five months, and 29 foundations are already laid. The work on 35 more houses will begin shortly. The government hopes to hand over the keys to all families by December 2025.But even as some look forward to rebuilding their lives, for many, the grief still feels raw—etched in silence, scattered flowers, and the smell of camphor.
At the Puthumala graveyard, where hundreds of victims are buried, the sky remained clear, an ironic contrast to the downpour that caused the tragedy a year ago. Families arrived early in the morning, many carrying incense sticks, garlands, and laminated photographs of those they lost. Tears flowed freely.
Abhijith, 19, wandered quietly through the rows of graves. His eyes searched for the names of his lost ones—nine in total, including his parents Subramanian and Babita. He was in Thiruvananthapuram, for his studies, that day, making him a lonely witness of the aftermath. His brother Girijith’s body has not been found to this day.
Elsewhere, 70-year-old Madhavi stood near a memorial stone placed at her granddaughter Avanthika’s grave. “She was so beautiful, with long, thick hair. That photo on the stone… it doesn’t do justice to her smile,” she said, wiping tears.
“She had asked me what gift I’d give her if she got full A+ in SSLC. She never waited for my answer.”
The plantation community too turned up in solidarity. Workers from the Harrison Malayalam estate—where 43 lives were lost—lit candles and laid flowers for their colleagues who never made it back from the hills they once called home.
A state-level commemoration was held at the graveyard with the presence of ministers K Rajan, P A Mohamed Riyas, and A K Saseendran. An all-religion prayer marked the solemn occasion, followed by floral tributes by government officials and the public.
At the MSA Auditorium in Meppadi, the Meppadi panchayat organised a public meeting where Revenue Minister Rajan announced that 49 more families will be added to the rehabilitation beneficiaries’ list, offering much-needed relief to those living just beyond the officially declared ‘No Go’ zones.
Yet, while some survivors look ahead to newly built homes, others continue to fight for recognition. In Chooralmala town, a protest gathered strength on the anniversary day. The Chooralmala Traders’ Association demonstrated, demanding an urgent rehabilitation package for business owners devastated by the landslide and the subsequent closure of the town.
“It’s been a year, and the government hasn’t even prepared a list of traders affected,” said Muhammed Niyas, an executive member of the association. “Around 80 traders—small and large—lost everything. We tried restarting from Kalpetta and Meppadi, but most of those attempts failed. Our families are still waiting to eat two proper meals a day. We need to survive too.”
One year on, Chooralmala and Mundakkai remain landscapes of longing—torn between the ache of loss and the glimmer of a new dawn. But one thing is clear: the spirit of the hills has not been buried.